


Fractured

by Sassi



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, Gen, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassi/pseuds/Sassi
Summary: Rising tensions between the members of the Fake AH Crew cause them to break into two groups battling each other in an all out war.





	Fractured

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to Samijen on Tumblr for the amazing cover art!

The group looked out over what they all knew was going to be a vicious battleground in only a few minutes. To most people, it looked like an ordinary warehouse, filled up with seemingly endless wooden boxes containing various pieces of crap that no one really gave a shit about, but to the five people staring at it, it looked different. To them, it looked almost like a maze, a labyrinth that most of them probably wouldn’t make it out of. It represented the breakdown of the Fake AH crew, the cruel split between the Los Santos crew that had them pitted against each other today. 

The tattooed leader of the group sighed, his shoulders slumped and his eyes drifted shut briefly.

“Geoff,” Ryan said. “Are you ready?”

“For this? I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, Ryan,” Geoff answered, turning away from the dim lighting of the warehouse to face his friend.

“Are we going to head in?” Gavin asked, looking up from his phone and tucking it away in his back pocket.

Their boss was silent for a few moments as he looked at each of his friends. A single streetlight  hung above the group, dust particles floating lazily through the beam of yellow light. Each man was armed with a rifle and a pistol. They were clothed in dark fabrics, trying to blend in with the darkness of the night surrounding them. 

Trevor and Matt stood together, their bodies angled towards each other, as if they’d been deep in conversation. They gave their boss their full attention though. While their facial expressions were quite calm, an identical light sparkling in their eyes showed their eagerness to get inside. 

At first glance, Gavin looked calm too. He stood casually, his shoulders back and weapon gripped loosely in his hands. Geoff kept looking though. Gavin’s eyes did not betray an inner excitement like Trevor and Matt’s eyes had. There were small creases in the corners of his eyes and his lips were pursed together. Geoff knew what was inside the warehouse that would cause his friend to look that worried. But, the other thing that Geoff knew was that Gavin always saw things through, no matter what. He would fight with them. The Brit’s hands tightened around the handle of his rifle, almost as if he’d heard Geoff’s silent words.

Ryan was the most relaxed of the group. He hadn’t donned his usual mask and face paint for once, so Geoff could see the smirk that pulled one corner of his mouth up. He had his back pressed against the solitary light post, his arms crossed lazily over his chest. One leg was bent and braced against the metal of the pole. Even when relaxed, however, his brilliant blue eyes shone intensely. 

The silence had drawn on longer than he’d intended it to last, so Geoff nodded his head once, the movement sharp.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I guess we are.”

* * * * * * * * *

The other half of the crew was already there waiting for them when Geoff’s group arrived. They had been leaning against the crates, but straightened up when they saw the men approaching.

“Hey look, the gang’s all here!” Jeremy smirked, stretching his arms to greet them. Even though his words were joking and a little bit mocking, everyone could tell he was nervous.

“So,” Ryan started, rolling his weight onto his left hip and getting straight to business. “Are we gonna do this like gentlemen or are we gonna do this like assholes?”

“Well I know we’re gentlemen, but I don’t know about you guys,” Michael muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear. He stared pointedly at the British crew member, who maintained the eye contact for a few seconds before breaking it off, a dejected look crossing his face.

“Look we all know that none of us want to be here, so why don’t we just drop the attitude and get this thing over with?” Jack interjected before anyone rose to challenge Michael’s insult. She had her hands raised in a shrugging gesture, almost attempting to placate the opposing crew members.

“You know, you said that with a dick load of attitude, right?” Geoff said, raising an eyebrow.

“And you know what we’re here for. What’s the point of trying to calm everyone down?” Trevor asked.

He and Matt were standing close behind Geoff, Gavin and Ryan. The pair had their rifles in hand, but stood in a very relaxed position as opposed to the other members on their team, who were taking the situation much more seriously.

The tension between the two halves of the Fake AH crew almost seemed like it could be felt in the air around them, so intense that a faint crackling noise could be heard through the silence.

“What… the fuck is that noise?” Alfredo asked, tilting his head to attempt to locate the source of the strange sound.

“Faulty wiring?” Jack guessed, warily glancing up at the hanging ceiling lights.

They all looked around, confused before Geoff turned and looked behind him.

“Matt, what…” Geoff’s face suddenly changed. “Are you eating fucking pop rocks?”

“Maybe…” Matt said quietly, the crackling sound intensifying when he opened his mouth.

“You’re not taking this seriously at all!” Jeremy yelled, his free hand clenched tightly.

The warehouse exploded with the sound of shouting, sometimes even team members shouting at each other. They were all cut off, however, when the sound of a single shot rang out through the building. Geoff’s eyes opened wide before they fluttered shut, his body going limp and collapsing to the ground. A red stain coloured his neck, just over his jugular.

Everyone, still stunned silent, turned their gaze to Lindsay, who slowly lowered her gun and stood straight.

“I’m a fucking lady, not a gentleman,” she declared, a smug smirk spread across her face.

“Holy fuck, Lindsay,” Michael said, staring at his wife in awe.

“Does this mean I’m the boss now?” she asked. “I just took him the fuck ou-“

“That’s it!” Ryan yelled, gripping his gun tightly. “Move!”

Gavin, Trevor and Matt immediately turned and sprinted for cover with Ryan following closely behind, shooting at their opposition while dodging their shots at the same time. He felt their bullets zooming just over his head; at one stage, he felt one fly close enough to make his hair flutter from the breeze.

He dived to the left, just narrowly dodging a shot that ricocheted off the crate he had just leapt behind, and took a moment to steady himself. Gavin had raised his gun when Ryan had ducked behind the crates he was using as cover, but lowered it when he realised who it was.

“So… can’t say that’s how I imagined this starting off,” Gavin chuckled, nervously.

Ryan shook his head. “I can’t say that I did either. Where did everyone else end up?”

“Trevor and Matt took cover over there,” he said, pointing to another set of crates to the right of them.

Ryan caught Matt’s eye and gave him a nod. Matt returned the gesture and disappeared from sight. The Mad King could hear the sounds of people moving around the concrete warehouse, but he was unsure if the noises were coming from his allies or not.

“Are we sticking together?” Ryan asked, risking a glance out to the corridor they’d just ran through. There was no one in sight, so he pulled his head back.

Gavin had his back turned when Ryan looked back at him, his hands trembling slightly as he held onto his weapon. The Brit turned his head to look back just as Alfredo jumped out in front of him.

“Gavin!” Ryan yelled, raising his gun. “Fucking move!”

Alfredo fired his gun and Gavin flopped backwards, a loud cry of surprise leaving his throat. His legs flew up in front of him and his weapon clattered to the side. Ryan quickly shot off a few rounds and watched as two of his bullets hit Alfredo on his shoulder. The injured man shouted in pain and stumbled backwards, his gun falling from his hands as he clutched his shoulder. Ryan ran forward, blocking Alfredo’s view of Gavin, and aimed his gun at the man.

“Sorry, Fredo,” he said.

“Wait, no!” Alfredo dropped his arm away from his shoulder, attempting to be stealthy as he reached for his pistol.

The shot rang out loudly in the small area and Alfredo jolted backwards as the bullet hit him in the middle of his chest, his body slamming onto the wall behind him and sliding down it slowly. His head rolled down and he went limp.

“Gav, are you okay?” Ryan asked, his brow furrowed.

“My back hurts a little from falling, but I didn’t get hit,” Gavin said, stretching out his joints. “I think he just missed my leg. If I hadn’t fallen backwards, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead.”

“So, for once your stumbling actually saved your life,” Ryan chuckled, offering his friend his hand.

“Told you guys it would save my life one day!” Gavin grinned, grabbing his gun as he was pulled to his feet.

* * * * * * * * *

Jack crept around the side of the crates, keeping her body low to the ground and in shadow. She had her rifle tucked away in the holster on her back, and her pistol ready in her hands. Her hair crept down into her eyes and she brushed it aside and tucked it behind her ear, cursing her lack of a headband.

Every minute or so, Jack heard the sound of gunfire. It could have been her teammates being shot at, her opposition being shot at or just someone fucking around. She’d heard what sounded like Gavin squawking but that didn’t mean he was dead. He squawked over everything.

She instinctively froze as someone came into view just ahead of her, moving out from behind a crate. Their back was to her but she recognised the person as Trevor. She lifted her gun to aim at his head, but he had darted forward and behind another row of crates before she could pull the trigger. That boy needed to learn to check his surroundings before moving; if she’d been a second faster, he’d have been dead before he’d even realised what had happened. 

With a quiet sigh, Jack lowered her weapon again. She moved forward quietly, listening for any movements. She leant out into yet another long hallway and her eyes were immediately drawn to the fallen form of Geoff. He was lying flat on his back. One arm was curled in close to his body and his other arm was extended out towards his gun a few inches away, as if he’d tried to hang onto it even during his collapse. His eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open. A twinge of pain shot through her heart and Jack forced her eyes away, willing her breathing to go back to normal. 

As she went to round the next corner, all thoughts of Geoff immediately left her head as a gunshot went off very nearby. Jack’s muscles tensed and she glanced around the box beside her. Michael and Lindsay were standing together, Lindsay bent over slightly. 

“Psst.” Jack whispered, quietly trying to get their attention.

Michael pivoted around, his gun raised, but he relaxed when he saw his teammate. Lindsay waved, a weird expression on her face.

“Oh, hey Jack.”

“Who fired just then?” Jack asked. “Did you get anyone?”

“Uhh… well technically yes,” Lindsay answered, leaning against the steel beam to her right. 

“Technically?” Jack repeated, drawing out the word slowly.

“She shot herself in the damn foot,” Michael sighed, shaking his head. “It’s times like this I wonder why I married her.”

“Hey,” Lindsay whined, pushing her lips into a pout.

“Honey,” Jack said, keeping her voice soft and patient. “How long have you been with the crew?”

“... A while,” she answered, purposefully not looking at the crew’s mother figure.

“And what was the first thing I taught you when you joined us?”

“Gun safety,” Lindsay sighed.

“Exactly,” Jack said, nodding her head. “Now I’m going to need you to be at the top of your game here. We’re doing well, but there’s still lots of their team left.”

“Hey,” Michael said, pulling his head back from the hallway. “Alfredo’s dead.”

“Alfredo’s d-” Jack cut herself off and sighed before turning back to Lindsay. “Okay so we’re not doing as well as I thought.”

“Don’t worry Jack! You can count on m-”

The loud gunshot caught them all of guard, but none more so than Lindsay. The only sound that came from her mouth was a small “Oh” before she slumped to the ground. When she landed, face down, Jack saw the wound on the back of her neck.

Michael stood frozen, staring down at his wife’s still body. His fingers started to twitch and his breathing was uneven. “L-Lindsay?” 

“Michael. Michael, I need you to breathe,” Jack pleaded, dragging her eyes away from her friend’s body. “We need to be calm.”

“My wife has just been shot, Jack,” Michael said, his voice sharp. “I don’t have time for calm. I need to kill some motherfuckers.”

“Michael! Michael wait!”

Before Jack could stop him, Michael had run from their spot and down the hallway of shipping crates. She cursed and pulled her rifle out, quickly following behind her teammate so she could hopefully stop him from getting killed as well.

The two moved through the warehouse, passing rows and rows of almost identical looking shipping crates. Michael wasn’t taking care to keep his footsteps light and quiet, way too focused on revenge, so Jack made sure to inspect every row of crate and every dark shadow they passed by to make sure there was no one hiding there.

They reached an area where the boxes weren’t stacked to the ceiling like the rest of the warehouse. This area was more open, with only a dozen crates on the ground. Jack walked past one, she noted that it was at hip height, for her at least. She watched as Michael searched around every crate searching for the person who had shot his wife.

“Where are you?” Michael yelled suddenly, making Jack jump. “Show yourself!”

“Michael!” Jack cried. “You’ll bring them all down on us!”

“Good.”

Jack didn’t get a chance to reply. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement and turned her head towards it. Michael moved faster than she did. Michael pivoted around and had fired a shot off before Jack could even blink.

“Holy shit!”

Trevor leapt behind the nearest crate, the bullet knocking off a chunk of the wood. Michael and Jack jumped behind crates as well and Jack noticed Matt appear as well, ending up behind a box in front of his teammate.

“I need you to be focused in this fight,” Jack hissed, leaning her back against cover with her head turned towards Michael.

“Don’t worry about me, Jack.” There was a fierce fire burning in the Jersey man’s eyes. “I’ve got this.”

Jack stared at her friend for a few seconds before nodding and looking away. Her fingers followed the usual rhythm as she grabbed more ammo and reloaded her rifle. To her side, Michael was firing at their opponents before moving back down to avoid their bullets.

Jack took a deep breath and popped up out of cover, automatically moving her rifle onto her shoulder. Neither opponent was was visible at first, but then Matt’s head came into view at the edge of the crate. Her finger tightened on the trigger and watched as her shot passed just over Matt’s head. He ducked down quickly before jumping off and firing a shot back.

Throughout the fight, Jack kept a close eye on Michael. In between her own shots, she watched as the man fired each bullet with an angry determination. He jumped up and fired just as Matt was coming into view. Matt disappeared with a loud curse and Jack heard him say the word “shoulder”. Trevor peeked out around the corner to check on his friend and Michael forced him to retreat again. 

“Why are we fighting?” Trevor yelled. “We should be friends! Work together!”

“No!” Michael shouted back, his hand trembling slightly. “You have to pay for what you did!”

“Oh Christ,” Matt groaned. 

Trevor fired the first shot to recommence the shooting. Jack was internally cursing Michael for dragging her into this as her knees started to ache. This battle needed to end and it needed to end quickly.

“Michael,” Jack whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible. “Michael, hey.”

“What?” Michael hissed back, not looking towards his teammate. “Kind of busy here.”

“We have to finish this now,” she said. “Someone is bound to come along any minute and they might not be friendly.”

He paused before nodding once. “Right.”

“Alright, we we need a plan.”

“I’ve got one,” Michael  interjected. “I’m going to run out and draw their fire.”

“What?” Jack said incredulously. “No!”

“Too late, I’m going.”

Just as Michael moved out of cover, Trevor jumped up. Trevor’s gun rose, lining it up with Michael, and he fired. Jack sucked in a breath and aimed. At that same moment, Matt jumped up as well, directly in the path of danger. Before his teammate could even get a word out, Trevor’s bullet hit Matt in the back. Matt let out a groan and collapsed to the ground, his gun skidding away from him.

It took a few seconds for anyone to react. Michael and Jack stared at Matt’s body before moving their gaze to Trevor’s frozen form.

“Oh fuck,” Trevor muttered.

Jack raised her gun, seeing Michael do the same out of the corner of her eye, and they both fired at Trevor. Their opponent’s body jolted backwards with each hit. His eyes still wide open, he fell backwards and didn’t move.

Jack slowly lowered her weapon and then broke the silence. “Well… I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Neither did Matt.”

Jack failed to suppress a small smile and then shook her head, attempting to focus. “Okay, so who do we have left?”

“On our team?” Michael asked. “As far as I know, it’s us and Jeremy left.”

“And their team?”

“Uhh… well, Geoff went out like a bitch and we just got those two. So as far as I know, their team is down to Gavin and Ryan,” he answered.

“Yeah but, Gavin probably tripped over his own foot and broke his neck,” Jack snorted.

As they spoke, they automatically checked over their weapons and reloaded. Their empty magazines were thrown to the side, sliding under a nearby shelving system.

“How are you doing on ammo?” Jack asked, glancing over at her friend.

“I’ve got about three magazines left,” he replied. “What about you?”

“Down to two,” she said. “That’s fine for me though. I’ll conserve ammo.”

Michael nodded. “Would you be fine with splitting up?”

“Splitting up?” Jack repeated, her words coming out slowly as she processed them. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“Well Jeremy is out there and for all we know, he’s already gotten one of them,” he reasoned. “There’s basically nothing left for us to do.”

The redhead shrugged. “Alright, it’s your call. If you think this is the right decision, I’ll trust you.”

“Okay. Let’s get this done.”

* * * * * * * * *

“How many hallways can there be in this bollocking place?” Gavin kept his voice low as he wandered through the building. He came across a door and pushed through it. “This place has a buffet?!”

After he’d separated from Ryan, Gavin had walked through the building and managed to get lost. His back had recovered from his near death experience, but he was growing bored.

“How far have I gone?” he wondered out loud. “Am I still in the same building?”

He ran his hand along the wall, feeling every dent and ridge in the paintwork. His rifle was held loosely in his other hand, occasionally bumping against his leg as he walked. His mind wandered as well, quietly humming an upbeat tune. Every corridor looked the same as he walked through them, the same greyish white walls and the same dark grey concrete floor. Every door that he walked by, he pulled it open and glanced inside. Most were storage rooms or offices, but occasionally he’d stumble across something unusual, like the cinema room. After every room, his hand resumed its path, tracing along the length of the wall.

After a while, his fingers found something different. As he moved along, a section of the wall seemed to move, pushing out as he brushed past it. Gavin stopped and looked at the panel, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, what’s this?” he asked himself, drawing the words out slowly.

He pushed harder and watched as the section of wall moved forward. About two metres down from him, the wall moved toward him. What kind of warehouse had a secret rotating wall panel? Gavin pushed the opening and suddenly, he was back in the place the entire battle had started. He pushed the wall back into place and watched as it seemed to blend in with the rest of the wall. 

Gavin lifted his weapon, holding it ready in his hands. He kept close to the wall, his footsteps light and quiet. He glanced down every row of crates, checking for movement. He paused when he saw Geoff’s body, in the centre of the middle corridor, and then Alfredo’s body, a few rows down. It was difficult to see his fellow crew members… his friends lying motionless, their eyes shut to the world. He sucked in a breath and continued forward. 

His whole body tensed as he walked, coming into an open area and found the bodies of Trevor and Matt. His eyes darted around the space quickly. With slow, deliberate steps, he moved toward one of the large towers of storage crates and pressed his back against the wood. Time seemed to slow down as he peeked his head around the right side of the box. Then everything sped up again when he yanked his head backward to avoid the bullet fired in his direction. He could almost hear the sound of his heartbeat thumping away in his chest. The only hint he had about the identity of his opponent was the flash of red hair. 

“Jack,” Gavin muttered, pulling his rifle up against his chest. “Great.” 

He considered taking the offensive, to move around the left side and launch an attack on her. The sound of a quiet footstep to his right stopped that train of thought. He reached back and hooked his rifle in the holster on his back. The metal of the pistol was cool against his fingers as he grabbed it from his hip, checking the ammo magazine. He sucked in a breath and angled his body towards the sound he’d heard, his eyes fixed on the edge of the crate. He waited…

… then dived to his right when Jack leapt out of cover, firing three shots in his direction. Gavin’s brain felt like it was running at twice its normal speed as he whirled around to face her again. Her cheeks were tinged a light pink and her clothing was covered in a fine layer of dust which showed very clearly on her dark clothing. He was sure that he looked similar. All the crates in the facility were quite old and probably hadn’t been touched in ages. The hanging light above them flickered and Gavin used Jack’s split second of distraction to fire at her. Jack threw her head to the side, her eyes flashing dangerously. 

Gavin launched himself to his left, tucking into a roll, and saw Jack do the same out of the corner of his eye. A loud metallic clatter caught his attention and he turned his head back around to see his rifle on the ground near where he’d been just seconds beforehand. Jack’s head popped out from behind a box and he cursed himself for not securing his gun properly, annoyed at the smug smile on her face. He forced her back into hiding with a shot from his pistol. 

Both crew members continued to duck and weave their way around each other, neither managing to get in a hit on the other. A bead of sweat ran down Gavin’s forehead and past his nose and he wiped it away angrily. He couldn’t lose. He went to fire again and his heart stopped when the gun clicked. He reached down to his side to grab another clip, but all he found was an empty holster. Frantically, he patted the holster a few more times and ripped the one from his back off to check it as well, but found the same result each time. He was completely out of rounds. His blood ran cold and his mind started racing, searching for any alternatives. All he had was a shitty little grenade… With a sigh, he pulled the grenade out of the bottom of the large holster and stared at it, praying for it to work. It was his last chance.

With one swift tug, the pin was gone and the wait began. Gavin’s eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his hand was wrapped around the small metal device. He forced himself to focus, keeping track of every single second that was going by, even as he heard the sound of Jack moving around, her footsteps growing louder as her frustration at not finding him grew and grew. Finally he jerked himself to his feet and his eyes darted around the scene. He saw Jack facing away from him, her gun pointed out in front of her as she searched, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth forming curse words. 

Gavin knew he didn’t have time to hesitate and he launched the grenade into the air. Jack swung around at the noise and she moved the gun around to aim at him. Then her eyes caught the movement that didn’t belong and her mouth opened in shock. Gavin didn’t waste time watching her and he dropped to the ground, hoping he’d aimed correctly for once. 

The explosion went off, but the noise wasn’t as loud as he’d thought it would be. He waited two agonisingly long seconds before he slowly crept out of cover and took in the scene before him. She’d attempted to run for cover, but hadn’t quite made it in time. She was laying face down, half hidden by a crate, but he could clearly see that her back had taken the brunt of the damage. He moved closer and then sighed when he confirmed what he’d been hoping for. Jack wasn’t moving and her eyes were closed. They were on opposite sides and she had been a threat… but is was still difficult seeing the woman who had been almost a mother figure for him in the crew laying motionless and knowing he’d been the cause of it.

Gavin shook his head and walked back to his dropped rifle. The job wasn’t finished just yet.

* * * * * * * * *

Michael was still simmering with rage. It didn’t matter that they had killed the bastards that had taken his wife away, it didn’t heal the pain of losing her. His breathing was heavier than usual and his mind was focused on the repetitive sound of his feet slapping against the ground. Surprisingly, the building was fairly devoid of human noise. He could hear the faint whistle of wind forcing its way through each crack in the building and the distant hum of a car motor.

He should have protected her. She should be by his side right now, making some terrible joke that he would have made fun of her for but be laughing at inside. Instead, he was alone. It probably would have been wiser to stick with Jack, to have someone watching his back, but he couldn’t stand another one of her worried glances. Michael knew that Jack meant well, she cared about everyone in the crew, but at that moment, it had just been too much.

More steps, more corridors, a seemingly endless amount of shipping crates. Seriously, what was even in these things? He glared at one on a lower shelf and angrily kicked it. He swallowed the curse that rose in his throat as his toes throbbed with pain. His scowl only grew as he continued forward, trying to walk without a limp. 

The silence in the warehouse was abruptly disturbed by the sound of a distant explosion. Michael’s head jerked toward the noise and a determined look crossed his face. In that direction was either an ally… or an enemy. He wasn’t sure which one he wanted to come across. 

Michael kept his footsteps as quiet as possible as he moved forward. All of the corridors he passed were checked and double checked to make sure he wouldn’t get jumped by anyone. Then as he rounded a corner, he saw a flash of red and he rushed toward it.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t to find Jack laying still on the ground. Michael let out a quiet curse, eyes locked on her body, before he forced himself to move away. A noise from his right caught his attention and he jerked to face it.

He found himself facing the barrel of a gun. Looking past that, he locked eyes with his best friend. Gavin looked unsure when he realised who he had come across. Both men had their weapons raised and their fingers ready on the trigger, but they both hesitated, neither wanting to pull the trigger. 

Gavin was the first to break the silence.

“Michael,” Gavin said softly, his voice trembling. “It doesn’t have to be this way, boi. Please.”

“Yes it does. You left me. You chose Geoff!”

“You know it wasn’t like that,” Gavin pleaded. “Geoff… Geoff’s the boss. He’s our friend! I can’t just turn my back on him!”

“And yet, you can turn your back on me,” Michael spat. “Not to mention killing Jack.”

“Michael, pl-”

“No! You made your choice, Gavin.” Michael took a shaky breath, trying to pull himself together. “And I’ve made mine.”

The shot rang out, the sound seeming to linger in the air. A red stain appeared on Gavin’s chest and his sharp gasp of breath cut through Michael like a knife. The Brit stumbled back a step, his arms going limp at his side and his gun falling to the ground with a loud clatter. He looked down slowly and then back up at Michael, a look of disbelief on his pale face.

“Micool...” he whispered.

His body crumpled, landing in a heap on the ground, a dust cloud floating up from the disturbed earth beneath him.

“I...I’m sorry, boi,” Michael choked out. 

He couldn’t pull his eyes away, his gun dangling loosely against his side. All of his emotions seemed to have disappeared, leaving him cold and empty inside. As he stood there, he finally drew in a ragged breath and he realised that he hadn’t been breathing. Then, a hand on his shoulder dragged him back into reality. 

Jeremy threw his hands in the air when Michael instinctively jerked his gun up at him. “Whoa, hey! It’s just me!”

“Goddammit Jeremy,” Michael said, his voice coming out in a quiet hiss. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Not much apparently,” the shorter man tried to joke. After his attempt at humour failed, he grew serious again. “Look, there’s just Ryan left now. And then we’re done, okay? It’ll all be over.”

“Right,” Michael nodded. “The hunt for Ryan is on, then.”

* * * * * * * * *

Ryan checked his watch, stifling a yawn. His rifle was hung over his shoulder and it gently scraped against the concrete wall as he leant on it. The slow ticking of his watch told him that it had been just over an hour since they’d arrived at the warehouse. After splitting up from Gavin, Ryan had wandered the halls and occasionally the side passages of the building, but hadn’t come across anyone. Well… anyone moving at least. All his alone time had led him to consider the possibility that everyone had just left and he had been walking in an empty building. But that theory had been disproven when he’d heard the sounds of gunfire.

Half an hour had passed, mostly consisting of walking in a large circle, before he had decided to take a break, conveniently by a vending machine stocked with Diet Coke. But of course, the delicious beverages had nothing to do with his decision. Being proactive and moving around hadn’t worked, so his next plan was staying in one place and maybe someone would stumble across him.

But as the next half hour slowly ticked by (or two Diet Cokes later) without him seeing a single person, he realised he’d have to move again. Then the sound of an explosion somewhere in the warehouse had caught his attention. His fingers tensed slightly around the handle of his gun and his eyes narrowed slightly before he took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, tossing his empty soda into a nearby trash can. 

Ryan kept his pace slow as he walked back into the main battleground area, his eyes scanning over the maze of shipping crates. He kept his movements light, but moved quickly over the slightly dusty concrete floor. As he moved, he heard a single gunshot and then it was just silence again. His footsteps faltered for a second, his head turning towards the sound, then he continued moving forward. 

“Here!”

The shouted words cut through the quiet of the warehouse. Ryan’s reacted immediately, his body turning sharply around, just barely managing to avoid the bullet that had been fired at him. Jeremy stood a few yards away, a determined smirk crossing his face, the warehouse lights glinting off the weapon in his hands. Ryan jerked his arm up, firing multiple bullets. The shorter man leapt to the side, the shots hitting the crate where he’d been standing. Ryan straightened up and Michael came into view, appearing from behind a crate to stand beside his partner. 

The Mad King knew he was at a disadvantage. Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, Jeremy beat him to it.

“So,” the bald man said, glancing over at Michael and then back at Ryan. “Is this it?”

“Pretty sure this is all that’s left of us,” Michael said with a grim nod.

Ryan could almost hear the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, but he forced his face to remain neutral. Michael and Jeremy were two of the crew’s most capable members, especially when it came to guns. This was going to be hard, but one thing that he always enjoyed was a challenge.

In the blink of an eye, Ryan raised his arm and fired off three shots. Michael caught his sudden movement and managed to throw himself to the side. Jeremy didn’t react as quickly. He turned his body to face away from his opponent and two of Ryan’s shots hit his right shoulder. He let out a loud cry of pain, his weapon clattering loudly to the ground as he dropped it to clutch his arm. With a loud curse, he ducked around the nearest crate. Ryan watched him retreat, but his attention was dragged back to Michael as the curly-haired man returned fire at him. 

Michael’s movements were were quick and refined from years of gun battles, not to mention that he and Ryan had worked alongside each other for a long time so they knew each other’s moves. The two men almost danced around each other, jumping in and out of cover, the sound of bullets being fired every few seconds. Their dance was suddenly interrupted by Jeremy jumping back in. Jeremy’s movements were less smooth than the other two men, his injured arm held tightly across his chest. Limited to only one arm, he’d switched over to his pistol.

Sweat started beading on Ryan’s brow and he could see the same thing happening to his opponents. The rifle was getting heavier in his hands as their battle wore on. He went to fire again, but only heard the sound of the weapon clicking. He let out a quiet curse and hurriedly grabbed another magazine. After he reloaded, he patted his back pocket to check how much ammo he had left. His searching slowed as he felt nothing in the pocket. He moved his hand to his weapon holster, finding that to be empty as well. There was a backup magazine for his pistol, but that was it. Ryan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on his surroundings. From the slight sounds he could hear, he guessed that his opponents were circling around either side of the crate to ambush him. There was a slight pause and then both men came out of hiding.

Ryan instinctively ducked down, feeling the shots fired over his head. He rolled to the right, straight towards Jeremy. The man’s eyes widened in surprise at Ryan’s movements, but he managed to fire. Ryan lifted his weapon, aimed and pulled the trigger, watching Jeremy’s body slump to the concrete floor. Hearing Michael’s yell and feeling the bullets fly past him, he leapt for cover. 

The growing ache was what alerted him. Looking down, Ryan saw the red stain on his left calf and he realised he’d been hit. Apparently, Jeremy’s last shot hadn’t been a waste. Ryan gingerly rolled his weight over to his left leg and then immediately moved off it when the limb throbbed angrily. Ryan forced down the frustration and gritted his teeth. This battle had to end soon or he was finished.

He could hear Michael moving around quietly. His words were hard to hear, but Ryan could still make them out. “Where are you, you son of a bitch?”

Ryan edged his way back around the crate, moving past Jeremy’s body. His slow pace irritated him to no end, but he knew that he didn’t have a choice. Every action of his body felt amplified: his breathing felt abnormally loud, almost like it was echoing, in his ears; the throbbing in his leg was perfectly synchronised with his heart, the beat imitating a nervous drummer, trying to stay perfectly in rhythm but occasionally stuttering.

He approached the corner, goosebumps prickling his skin as he brushed against the cold metal of one of the steel beam pillars that ran along the length of the warehouse. Trying to be as sneaky as possible, Ryan glanced around the edge of the pillar. His eyes locked onto Michael’s slow moving form. His opponent had his rifle ready, moving through the crates with the gait of a predator stalking its prey.

The Mad King took a careful step to the side, moving out of the safety of cover. He raised his weapon, taking his time to line up the shot. One steadying breath and then he pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow down when the bullet left Ryan’s gun. Almost as if he could feel the air moving, Michael moved his head to the side, just avoiding certain death.

Michael jerked around, his eyes wide with surprise. “You fuck!”

Ryan’s mouth curved downwards into a frustrated scowl, quickly firing again. Michael dropped down into a crouch and launched himself forward in a roll, his rifle falling to the ground, forgotten in his haste. Ryan took a step backwards as Michael straightened up, inches away. The curly haired man jerked to the side, avoiding another bullet and used the new angle to grab at the weapon in Ryan’s hands. The lights above them flickered rapidly as both men battled for possession of the weapon. 

A little bit of sweat was all it took to change the fight; Ryan’s leg was throbbing angrily and the pain, as well as the adrenaline pumping through his body, caused a thin sheen of sweat on bead on his hands. Michael felt the difference in his opponent’s grip and, with one hard tug, he jerked the rifle out of Ryan’s hands. The Mad King was knocked off balance, his muscles instinctively locking up to keep him upright.

Michael pushed forward with all his weight, ramming the rifle against Ryan’s shoulders and shoving him to the ground. Michael landed on top of him, trading the cumbersome rifle for his pistol as Ryan tried to recover his lost breath. Ryan stared at the barrel of the pistol pointed at his throat before directing his gaze back at Michael, his face relaxed even in the face of defeat.

“It’s over, Ryan,” Michael declared, panting lightly. “You’ve lost.”

“You’re right,” Ryan said, giving Michael a slight nod. “It is over.”

The sound of the shot hung in the air, seeming to reverberate off every single crate in the concrete warehouse. Both men were still, their gaze locked as their ears rang.

“But I haven’t lost.”

Michael tore his eyes away from his opponent and glanced down, finally noticing the pistol clutched in Ryan’s hand and the dark stain on his chest. His eyes widened as the reality hit him, the pain starting to seep into his adrenaline fuelled mind. Ryan gave his shoulder a solid push as Michael’s arms began to give out, shoving his opponent away from him. Michael landed heavily on the dusty concrete floor. He didn’t move.

Ryan was still as well, his eyes drifting shut in exhaustion. His leg ached, but he ignored it as his mind raced. He’d done it. He was the sole survivor of the battle. After a few moments, he forced his eyes open again, seeing the lights above him flickering again. With a tired groan, he pushed himself upright, and pulled his uninjured leg up to his chest to brace himself.

“Gavin, stop fucking with the lights!” Ryan called out.

There was a low chuckle from his side and he watched as Michael sat up, rubbing his chest gingerly. “That really fucking hurt, Ry.”

“Sorry, Michael.” Ryan joined his laughter, reaching over to pat his friend on the back. “I honestly thought you had me for a second there!”

“So did I! You’re a sneaky motherfucker,” Michael said, shaking his head.

The sound of footsteps and muffled voices made them turn their heads. Geoff and Jack came into view first, talking quietly to each other. Gavin, Trevor, Alfredo and Lindsay followed close behind them. When the group had almost reached Michael and Ryan, Jeremy appeared, looking at them with bleary eyes and suffocating a yawn with his hand. 

“Seriously, Jeremy?” Lindsay teased. “You took a nap?”

“Oh, don’t tell me who didn’t do the same fucking thing,” Jeremy said, a grin appearing on his face.

“Well yeah, but I’m not as obvious about it,” she shrugged.

Gavin shook his head, bewildered. “How the hell do you two manage to fall asleep on this concrete? My back hurts like hell.”

“Not as good as your solid gold mattress, Gav?” Trevor chuckled.

“A guy owns one pair of gold sunglasses and suddenly everything he owns is gold,” the Brit sighed.

Geoff rolled his eyes at his crew members, before looking back at Ryan. “So, I’m guessing you won?”

“Yup,” Ryan said with a smirk. “Again.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jack groaned. “We all know you won last year too.”

“What? A little reminder of my skills doesn’t hurt every now and again,” Ryan smiled, attempting to look innocent. 

“Speaking of skill, how cool was my Jack kill?” Gavin interjected.

“You got me with a damn grenade!” the red-haired woman cried, her voice cracking. “I didn’t even know we  _ had _ paintball grenades!”

“So it’s going to be a grenade fight next year?” Ryan stretched out his leg, rubbing at the soon-to-be bruised skin. “Oh also, I almost ran out of paintballs during the fight with Michael. Do we have more at HQ?”

“We bought out store’s entire fucking supply of paintballs. We’d better still have some,” Matt grumbled. 

“We only bought the red paintballs, dude,” Trevor pointed out. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“Next year we could only buy the blue paintballs and pretend to have blue blood like royalty,” Lindsay joked.

“Wife dear?” Michael interrupted.

“Yes, my lovely husband,” Lindsay said, looking over at him.

“Can you actually survive these at least once?” Michael asked, glaring at his wife. “It seriously sucks having to pretend that you’re dead.”

“Well I managed to take Geoff out at least!” she protested. “That’s better than last year!”

“Didn’t have to get me in the goddamn neck,” Geoff muttered angrily, scraping the red colour from his neck and wincing as he touched the abused skin.

“You’re so intense when she goes down, Michael. It’s actually pretty scary,” Jack commented, only half paying attention as she struggled with all the paint that had dried into her hair.

“Of course I’m intense!  The whole point of these is to act like it’s completely real,” Michael pointed out. “I’m not just going to shrug off my wife getting fucking shot in the neck!”

“Next year, we should do me killing Gavin in a jealous rage because you and him ran off together,” Lindsay suggested, a smirk on her face. “Then Michael shoots me down!”

“Lindsay, we don’t plan who kills who,” Gavin pointed out, his gun slung loosely over his shoulder. “That kind of ruins the fun of it all.”

“Yeah yeah fine,” the woman shrugged. “Back to the important topic though...” She turned to glare at Trevor and Matt. “Which of you fuckers is responsible for shooting me in the  _ freaking neck _ ? That damn hurt!”

“I’m guessing that it was karma,” Geoff grumbled, his voice too quiet for Lindsay to hear.

“It wasn’t me!” Matt cried, his eyes wide.

Lindsay turned her attention completely on Trevor, her hands resting on her hips. “So it was you?” 

“Well it wasn’t me either!” Trevor threw his hands up in surrender. “The only person I got was Matt!”

“Which I’m still pissed about,” Matt muttered angrily.

“It was an accident!” he groaned. 

“Well who the hell shot me then?” Lindsay demanded, her hands on her hips.

“Oh uhh… that’d be me.”

Ten heads turned sharply at the unexpected voice. Appearing from behind a crate, his hands tucked lightly in his pockets and his pink sniper rifle looped over his shoulder, was none other than Ray.

“Ray, you prick, you said you were too busy to come tonight,” Geoff frowned at the new arrival.

“Well I was, but then I became unbusy,” the Puerto Rican explained, reaching up to adjust his purple beanie.

“Did Xbox Live go down?” Jack asked sarcastically.

“...Maybe,” he said with a shrug, leaning back against the metal pole behind him.

“Wait… But Ray wasn’t officially in the battle,” Lindsay pouted. “So it doesn’t count.”

“‘Officially’? Lindsay, I have no idea how the word official could be applied to anything that we do,” Geoff asked, eyebrow raised.

“It’s the principle of the matter! I could have lived through the battle!” she protested.

“Lindsay.” Michael’s voice was flat, no belief in his voice. “You know I love you, but yeah no you wouldn’t have.”

She folded her arms against her chest, her pout intensifying. “I mean, it  _ could _ have happened.”

“Maybe next year, honey,” Michael said, soothingly. He reached out and patted her am gently.

“Speaking of next year, we should do all on Ray,” Jack suggested. “Get a little bit of payback for Lindsay.”

“What the fuck?! This is what I get for leaving the damn house,” Ray complained.

“I’d be down for that!” Alfredo grinned. “I’ve never gotten to fight Ray before.”

“Hell yeah,” Trevor agreed.

“You know what, you guys are bitches,” Ray muttered. “I’m going to go hang out with Fakehaus. They’re way nicer to me than you assholes are.” 


End file.
